The sob died in my throat before it could escape.

I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst. Cold sweat soaked through my nightgown, and phantom pain shot through my left arm—the arm that had been broken, the arm that Cole had snapped like a twig against his marble fireplace.

But when I looked down, my arm was whole. Unbruised. The silk nightgown I wore was pristine white, not the blood-soaked rag from my final moments.

My hands flew to my throat, searching for the bruises from Cole's fingers, the marks that had turned purple and black before I'd made my desperate escape. Nothing. Just smooth, unmarked skin.

The room around me swam into focus, and my breath caught. This wasn't Cole's mansion. This wasn't the cold marble floors and oppressive darkness of Black Hollow Pack territory.

This was my childhood bedroom in the Hart mansion.

Sunlight streamed through the familiar cream curtains, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floor I'd walked across thousands of times. The walls were still painted the soft lavender I'd chosen when I was sixteen—before everything went wrong, before Ava's manipulations took root, before my brothers' coldness became a permanent fixture.

I scrambled for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen. The date glowed back at me in stark white numbers:

*March 15th, 6:47 AM*

My twenty-sixth birthday.

The morning of the day that had started my final descent into hell.

I stared at the screen until my eyes burned, willing the numbers to change, to make sense. But they remained stubbornly the same. Two years. I had somehow traveled back exactly two years.

The memories crashed over me like a tidal wave—Cole's wedding proposal that afternoon, delivered with all the warmth of a business transaction. Liam's satisfied nod as he accepted on my behalf. Rhett's silent approval. Ava's perfectly timed tears of joy, her arms around me as she whispered congratulations that felt like poison in my ear.

And later, much later, the wedding that felt more like a funeral. The first night in Cole's bed. The first time his hand struck my face when I flinched from his touch.

But that hadn't happened yet.

None of it had happened yet.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to process what this meant. The brutal marriage, the years of systematic abuse, the final desperate flight to my family's door—it was all still ahead of me. Unless...

Unless I changed it.

The thought hit me like lightning, electric and terrifying and absolutely certain. I knew what was coming. I knew every trap, every manipulation, every moment of pain that awaited me if I followed the same path.

I didn't have to be a victim this time.

The bedroom door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ava peered around the edge, her face arranged in the same mask of sisterly concern I remembered from that morning two years ago.

"Mia? I heard you moving around." Her voice was honey-sweet, just as it had been before. "Are you alright? You look pale."

Looking at her now, knowing what I knew, I could see the calculation behind her wide brown eyes. The way she positioned herself in the doorway to appear smaller, more fragile. The slight upturn of her lips that she probably thought looked sympathetic but actually resembled a predator's smile.

How had I ever fallen for this act?

"I'm fine," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.

Ava stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with deliberate softness. "You don't look fine. You look like you've seen a ghost."

If only she knew.

"Just a bad dream," I said, watching her carefully. Every gesture, every micro-expression was exactly as I remembered. She moved to my dresser, straightening the bottles of perfume that didn't need straightening—a nervous habit she'd had since childhood.

"Well, you'll want to pull yourself together quickly." She turned to face me, and there it was—that flash of satisfaction she couldn't quite hide. "Liam wants to see you in his office after breakfast. He has some exciting news about your future."

My future. The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

In my previous life, I had gone to that meeting with butterflies in my stomach, wondering what surprise my brother had planned for my birthday. I had been so naive, so desperate for any scrap of affection from my family that I'd walked straight into the trap.

Not this time.

"Does he?" I kept my voice carefully neutral, but inside, something cold and sharp was crystallizing. A resolve harder than diamond, forged in the fires of everything I'd endured.

Ava's smile widened, mistaking my calm for the same docile acceptance she'd always exploited. "You should wear the blue dress—the one with the high neckline. It's so modest and appropriate. I'm sure our guest will appreciate that."

Our guest. Cole Maddox would already be here, waiting in Liam's office like a spider in the center of his web. Ready to claim his prize.

But I wasn't a prize anymore. I was a woman who had died once already, who had felt the cold earth of my family's territory beneath my broken body as life ebbed away. I was a woman who had nothing left to lose and everything to gain.

"I'll choose my own clothes, thank you," I said quietly.

Something flickered across Ava's face—surprise, maybe even a hint of unease. In the original timeline, I had thanked her for the suggestion and worn exactly what she recommended.

"Of course," she said, but her voice had lost some of its sweetness. "I was just trying to help."

"I'm sure you were."

The silence stretched between us, and I could see her trying to read my expression, to understand this new dynamic. Good. Let her wonder. Let her worry.

After a moment, she turned toward the door. "Breakfast is in an hour. Don't be late—you know how Liam feels about punctuality."

When the door closed behind her, I finally allowed myself to breathe. My hands were still shaking, but not from fear this time. From anticipation.

I rose from the bed and walked to my closet, pushing aside the blue dress Ava had suggested. Instead, I pulled out a black blazer and matching slacks—professional, authoritative, nothing like the submissive Omega daughter they expected.

As I dressed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The face looking back at me was younger, unmarked by Cole's brutality. But my eyes... my eyes held the weight of everything I'd endured, everything I'd learned.

I was no longer the naive girl who had died on this territory two years from now.

I was someone else entirely.

Someone who would not be sacrificed again.

The dining room felt like a mausoleum as I descended the grand staircase, my heels clicking against marble with each measured step. The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast everything in sharp relief—the gleaming mahogany table, the crystal chandelier, the three figures already seated in their usual positions.

Liam sat at the head of the table, his dark suit immaculate as always, fingers moving across his tablet screen with mechanical precision. Business reports, most likely. The same cold focus that had driven him to treat me like a commodity to be traded.

Rhett stood against the far wall, arms crossed, his military bearing rigid even at breakfast. His eyes tracked my movement as I entered, but there was something different in his gaze—something I couldn't quite place.

And Ava. Sweet, delicate Ava, perched in her chair like a porcelain doll, her golden hair catching the light as she dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

"Oh, Mia," she said, her voice trembling with practiced vulnerability. "I'm so glad you're here. I had the most terrible nightmare, and when I woke up, my favorite bracelet—the one Mother gave me—was missing from my jewelry box."

I slid into my seat across from her, watching her performance with detached fascination. How had I ever believed this act? Every gesture was calculated, from the way she let her lower lip quiver to how she positioned the handkerchief to catch the morning light.

"I'm sure it will turn up," I said evenly, reaching for the coffee pot.

Ava's eyes widened with hurt surprise. "But Mia, you were in my room yesterday evening, remember? When you borrowed my earrings for dinner?"

The implication hung in the air like poison gas. In my previous life, I would have immediately launched into frantic denials, desperate to prove my innocence. The accusation would have sent me into a spiral of anxiety and self-doubt.

Now, I simply poured my coffee and met her gaze steadily. "I remember borrowing earrings. I don't remember seeing your bracelet."

Liam's fingers paused on his tablet screen. The silence stretched taut as a wire.

"Well," Ava continued, her voice gaining that particular edge I remembered so well, "perhaps you could help me look for it later? I'm just so worried—"

"The staff will help you search," Liam interrupted, his tone clipped. "I'm sure it's simply misplaced."

I nearly choked on my coffee. In the original timeline, he had immediately ordered a search of my room, treating Ava's tearful accusations as gospel truth. The memory of that humiliation—servants rifling through my belongings while I stood there, powerless and ashamed—sent a wave of nausea through me.

But it wasn't fear making me sick now. It was the visceral memory of dying on this family's land, cast out like garbage while Ava's laughter echoed in my ears. The taste of dirt and blood in my mouth as my strength ebbed away, alone and abandoned.

I set down my cup carefully, my hand steady despite the roiling in my stomach.

Ava's perfect composure cracked slightly. "But Liam, I really think—"

"I said the staff will handle it." His Alpha command rolled across the table, and Ava flinched back into her chair.

Rhett shifted against the wall, and when I glanced at him, I caught something in his expression that made my breath catch. Guilt. Raw, unmistakable guilt, mixed with something that looked almost like... recognition?

The rest of breakfast passed in stilted conversation, Ava's attempts at manipulation falling flat against Liam's distracted responses and Rhett's increasingly cold stares. By the time I excused myself, claiming I wanted to walk in the garden before my meeting, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

The garden had always been my refuge, even as a child. The rose bushes were in full bloom, their fragrance heavy in the morning air. I found myself drawn to the old stone bench near the fountain, the same spot where I used to hide with books when the house became too suffocating.

I had barely settled onto the weathered stone when I heard footsteps on the gravel path behind me. Light, delicate steps that I recognized immediately.

"Mia?" Ava's voice was soft, uncertain. "Are you alright? You seemed... different at breakfast."

I didn't turn around. "Did I?"

"Yes, you—" She moved closer, and I could hear the calculated hesitation in her voice. "You seemed almost cold. That's not like you."

Not like the doormat she was used to walking on, she meant.

"Maybe I'm just tired," I said, still facing the fountain.

"Well, I hope you feel better soon. Especially with your big meeting this morning." There was something sly in her tone now, a hint of the satisfaction she couldn't quite suppress. "I'm sure Liam's news will cheer you up."

She moved past me toward the rose bushes, her steps becoming more animated. This was it—the moment I remembered so clearly from my previous life. She would pretend to stumble, cry out that I had pushed her, and my brothers would come running to her rescue.

I turned slightly, watching her approach the largest bush—the one with thorns sharp enough to draw blood if she wasn't careful. In my original timeline, she had managed to scrape her arm just enough to make her tears seem genuine.

"Oh!" Ava's cry rang out across the garden as she stumbled forward, her hands reaching out toward the thorny branches. "Mia, why did you—"

But her performance was cut short by the sound of rapid footsteps on the path. Liam appeared first, his phone still in his hand, his jaw set in a hard line. Rhett was right behind him, his face like thunder.

"What happened?" Liam demanded, but his eyes weren't on Ava's scratched arm or her tears. They were fixed on me, and there was something in his gaze that made my heart skip.

"She pushed me!" Ava sobbed, exactly as she had two years ago. "I was just walking past, and she—"

"Bullshit." Rhett's voice cut through her words like a blade.

The garden fell silent except for the gentle splash of the fountain. Ava's mouth fell open in shock.

Liam pulled out his phone, his movements sharp and angry. "Security footage from the garden cameras. Let's see exactly what happened."

My breath caught in my throat. In my previous life, there had been no mention of cameras, no verification of events. Just immediate belief in Ava's version of the truth.

"That's not—you don't need to—" Ava stammered, her composure cracking completely.

"Stop." Rhett's command was quiet but absolute. "Just stop with your pathetic games, Ava. We're done pretending we don't see through them."

The words hit like physical blows. Ava staggered backward, her face pale with shock and growing panic.

And in that moment, as I looked between my two brothers—at the guilt written across their features, at the way they couldn't quite meet my eyes—the impossible truth crystallized.

They remembered.

Somehow, impossibly, they remembered what they had done to me. What they had cost me. The way I had died because of their choices.

The knowledge sat between us like a living thing, unspoken but undeniable. In Liam's clenched jaw, in Rhett's haunted stare, in the way they both looked at me as if I were a ghost they couldn't quite believe was real.

Because in a way, I was.